


What it Means to be Ours

by valeriavionics



Series: Nightmare's Gang in a Nutshell [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Guys Poly - Freeform, Confrontations, Cross is lured into a trap, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Intervention, M/M, Mild Language, Mpreg, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Self-Doubt, Self-Worth Issues, asexual reproduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valeriavionics/pseuds/valeriavionics
Summary: …Cross glances behind him to look at the doors longingly. Maybe if he yanks on the tablecloth hard enough to throw the cups of water to the laps of their owners, he could have enough momentum to sprint to the safety of his room.As if reading his mind, Dream speaks up, even as Cross refuses to meet his stare and temporarily locks on a very fascinating swirl of the table, “We understand that you don’t want to talk about it, truly, we do. But we want you to get the closure you need.”He can’t help the way he crosses his arms, protectively embracing his belly, “Are you sure it’s not you that needs closure? I thought we were over this.”
Relationships: Bad Guys Poly, Bad Guys Sanses/Star Sanses, Cross/Everyone, Everyone/Everyone, Nightmare Gang & Sans (Undertale)
Series: Nightmare's Gang in a Nutshell [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111619
Comments: 7
Kudos: 109





	What it Means to be Ours

**Author's Note:**

> Where Cross gets confronted about a secret that been silently killing him insider, and he's not exactly enthused about it.
> 
> Based on a conversation with @Askellie in Twitter with Cross being desperate enough for a family that his body takes action.

It takes an insane amount of effort to not spill his metaphorical guts right there and then, captured by a golden gaze expressing kindness and understanding for a situation they couldn’t completely understand. The guilt gnawing at his soul is persistent, but his shame is a tad more persuasive, so he’s forced to smile reassuringly and shake his head for the umpteenth time, even as sweat begins to collect at his brow.

“Cross”, the sound of his name makes him bite his tongue, tone pleading and concerned, “if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. You know how Blue will get if he thinks you haven’t been eating well.”

Dream’s radiant, comforting grin compels Cross to relax further, yet he doesn’t let it coax him. Getting too loose in Dream’s vicinity always ends up with him saying something ridiculously embarrassing, and as for now, he doesn’t favor the thought. The soldier looks down where the guardian clasped both of their hands together like a mutual prayer, flustered and feeling terrible.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

And it’s the truth, he’s been doing very well considering how much his state has interrupted his work and how much the others have been fussing around him for said state. If he had to complain, it would be for how little he’s allowed to do in the castle, as if there was always someone keeping an eye on him, ready to strike whenever he so much as thought of tidying up. He is a grown monster, he could look after himself, and the others were a tad too overbearing at times.

It’s not their fault, it’s his.

He’s the one that went and got himself pregnant.

“I always worry, but I trust your word,” Dream smiles, never breaking eye contact, “you’ll do anything to keep our little one safe.”

There he goes again, making Cross’s voice stutter and his smile waver at the surge of affection. He barely manages a quick, “ _Thank you._ ” before Dream laughs, sockets closing like he’s facing a particularly pleasant sunny day- like _Cross_ is the most pleasant sunny day.

_“Our little one”_ , a phrase both Dream and Nightmare were doting on, though Nightmare was a little less sentimental about it and more…assertive. Cross could tell they were either excited for the arrival of this child, which brought warmth to his soul that could leave him smiling for days.

“And you know,” Dream continues, letting go of one of his hands to continue their walk on the garden, eyelights leaving him to stare forward, “it wouldn’t hurt having more people looking after you.”

“I can look after myself.” His response is direct and defensive, and a second later he cringes, apologetic. He loathes admitting he’s been more sensitive to criticism ever since his pregnancy became more obvious, his capacity for battle had been questioned more than once, and he barely had permission to go to missions at all, even with the tentative truce between the brothers. “Sorry.”

Dream glances at him sideways, smile still supportive and bright, if not a little empathetic, “It’s alright, I just think it’d be helpful to have the other parent helping out.”

Taking responsibility, that’s what Dream means, but Cross still appreciates how he leaves the open door to exit the conversation.

“I’m fine Dream, as I told you before, they’re just out of the picture.”

Thankfully, they make it back to the door leading into one of the many kitchens just in time, and Cross takes the opportunity to slip his hands from the guardians and shy behind the wood. Dream lingers behind, making a show of adjusting his clothes before going back to work, his eyelights doing that thing where they glint in the light just right, making the soldier’s soul melt in adoration.

“This was a lovely walk Cross, thank you for making me company.”

That is also the sly trick he does when he’s up to something.

* * *

“ **Nothing yet?** ” Nightmare asks as soon as his brother strides inside the dining room, his single eye narrowing in irritation Dream knows well. The rest of the group is there as well, likely watching the moment from the windows, and their frustration doesn’t go unaware either. After Nightmare and himself, there weren’t any other monsters that could read Cross as well as they could.

“Nothing, he won’t budge at all, not since he told us about the tall one.”

“And that led us nowhere”, Killer complains with a drawn groan, though Dust snorts and Horror snickers.

“think that one g sans became a hermit in his au,” Dust muses, looking up as if contemplating a pleasant memory, “was really fun to _interrogate_.”

“Which is something we are absolutely _not_ doing again,” Dream reminds them seriously, “Cross withdrew for days, it took a lot of time to gain his trust back. And it turned out to be a huge waste of time- I doubt whoever is the parent knows about Cross’s condition.”

The trio makes a non-comitial noise, visibly unbothered and too pleased with themselves.

“ **In any case,** ” Nightmare interrupts, re-piling the papers he’d brought in for the reunion, “ **Even if the other parent doesn’t know, it’s still bothering Cross a good amount. Have you not felt what he feels when the subject is brought, brother?** ”

Dream nods, resting his chin on his hands, staring hard at the table, as if trying to recite a poem in a language he can’t understand, “Guilt, apprehension, shame. It’s been getting harder to read him lately, he’s catching up on what we’re doing very fast.”

“ **Precisely. It’s all these bottled-up feelings that lead me to believe Cross truly believes he’s done something wrong, more than getting pregnant on service.** ”

“why is this even important?”, Horror suddenly pipes in, rocking back on the chair as he stares up at the high ceiling, bored, “he doesn’t wanna talk about it, so whoever the guy is, it was probably a one-time thing.”

The group pauses as if it’s the first time they’ve considered it, the idea of letting the subject go, left to never be touched again. It’s so unfortunate for Cross that he’s lived with them for so long, if he was any other skeleton that just moved in, they could care less. Sanses, especially them, are stubborn and persistent.

“ya wouldn’t be saying the same if it was yours” Dust’s mumble comes off as a hiss, with a bite that doesn’t quite sound like his usual harsh tone. No, Dream and Nightmare can tell where the irregularity comes from, and not one bit is sprouting from anger.

He’s _jealous_.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” As expected, Horror carefully takes the bait, narrowing his functional socket at the genocidal skeleton, which makes said monster snort derisively.

“you and cross went out for a rai- _shopping spree_ a couple of months ago, didn’t ya?”, Dust is smart to reword himself in front of Dream, but not enough to keep the acidity of accusation from his voice, “had plenty of time to get busy.”

Surprisingly, Horror’s expression changes from cautious anger to a disbelieving deadpan in a drop of a needle, like he’s never heard anything more moronic in his entire life. He uprights his seat and rests a hand on the rim of his socket, and the other idly taps rhythmically on the table.

“are ya suggesting the kid’s mine?”

“i don’t know how i could’ve been any clearer.”

Dust smiles, Horror smiles back, neither look even remotely genuine, they could be holding knives at each other’s throats and it would be less threatening than those grins. It’s a delicate situation that could turn ugly with Dust’s sharp mouth and Horror’s lack of restraint. Dream quickly tries to find a way to diffuse the tension, but Killer beats him to it- and not in the best way.

“Don’t think you can talk about having time to get busy, Dust”, the easy-going tone he uses is betrayed by the way his exposed soul flickers in interest at the prospect of a fight breaking out, “I can hear ya sneaking outta yer room at night and go to his. For a midnight snuggle, perhaps?”

Much to everyone’s surprise, a violet flush flourishes on Dust’s cheekbones, and he hastily pulls his scarf up to shield the fluster away from them, “shut up, like you have the right to make accusations, _mr. fuck me in the middle of a massacre_. with how much you two get it going, i wouldn’t be surprised if cross was embarrassed about gettin’ knocked up by _you_.”

_Oh, shit._

Dream moves before he registers it, gripping Killer’s arm firmly just in time to halt his attempt to stand up- pulling him down firmly towards his chair, throwing Dust a chastising glare of disapproval.

“ **That is quite enough, both of you.** ” Nightmare, thankfully, helps Dream stabilize Killer into his seat, his single, penetrating eye silencing any further protests or comments. The dining room becomes silent save for the boss’s commanding voice. “ **As I said, Cross’s negative feelings are at their highest when the cause of his pregnancy is brought up, not when he’s around any of us.** ”

Dream has never been more grateful for his brother’s infinite patience and unwavering grace at moments like these, a solid rock he can rely on when uncertainty and distrust are thick in the air. Once he’s sure the empty-eyed skeleton won’t jump to strangle Dust, he lets go of his arm to rest his hand on his shoulder instead, reassuringly.

“That’s right. And if one of us was the parent, we’d feel a sort of connection with the child, or at least feel closer to Cross.”

And that was probably out of the question as well, they had _all_ become a bit clingy and protective of Cross ever since he couldn’t hide his form any longer. The soldier has become heavier (much to Horror’s delight and Killer’s amusement) and made him a little less efficient for combat, lethargic, and most sore. He could hold his own against a Froggit for sure, but he could become an easy target for a wrong monster having a bad enough day.

“…fuck, alright. sorry poppy, horror.”, Dust, at last, recedes, voice begrudging but genuinely apologetic and both of the offended monsters relax, shoulders sagging.

“s’fine.” Horror pulls the hand that’d been teasing his socket away, proceeding to go back to his chair-rocking.

“We’re all tense and worried, but this ain’t about us,” Killer sighs, soul reverting to its normal state, “it’s about Cross.”

“ **It’s a concern worth looking into, regardless.** ” Nightmare continues talking, as if Horror, Dust, and Killer hadn’t been just about to claw each other in front of him, “ **We might not be the parents, but we still have to ask the others. Dream, I trust you can talk to Blue and Ink to see if there are any matches.** ”

“Of course.” He agrees readily. This was already more favorable than throwing claims at each other or blindly hunting down any skeleton across the multiverse and beyond, looking for this one “tall, big-socketed, clothes-wearing skeleton.”

“ **And you three can fetch Error when he’s not busy, he tends to be more difficult to find, so remind him he’s needed here. If it comes down to it, we’ll have him track down this mystery parent.** ”

The positivity guardian grimaces, “But Night, that’s too invasive. It’s one thing to pressure Cross, it’s another to pry into his body to get information.”

Nightmare meets his gaze with an inert, level-headed look of his own, resolution and will steel in the icy cyan of his eyelight. However, there is also a layer of underlying understanding, a feeling of apprehension of his own, like he’s biting into a lemon and pretended to like it.

“ **Think of it as a last resort option. After all, we don’t know if the coupling for this child was mutual. If this doesn’t work as planned, we will all drop it once and for all.** ”

Once again, Dream finds himself giving in to another one of his brother’s plans, although at this point, it’s more like an attempt to save the scraps of a dozen other failed experiments.

He really hopes that trusting Cross pays off soon.

* * *

Cross steps out of the shower after a good exercise session that consisted solely of resistance training and cardio, keeping his legs strong and magic flowing through his bones healthily, perfect for defensive combat. With how big his midsection had gotten, brash training wouldn’t only be exhausting and straining for both of them, but also embarrassing.

He begins the process of drying himself down, catching a glace of his reflection on the bathroom mirror, purple ecto that is currently hosting his soul instantly drawing his attention. Cross abandons the towel on the counter, eyelights focusing on the swell of his belly that was once lean and firm, now plump and spoiled and barely translucent enough to give a glimpse of the culmination of his being inside. He doesn’t dare to try and call it forth outside him in fear that any sort of disconnection from his body could harm the kid, but he doesn’t have to.

He can feel them, growing stronger and bigger by the day, an echo of himself and something entirely new keeping him company when he sleeps. They’re too small to be able to communicate intent, only enough to heighten Cross’s hunger and irritation, but he already loves them so much. Never in his life, he’s felt this type of companionship or protectiveness, nothing like the romantic love he feels for others.

No, this kind of affection is distinctively his, for someone that’s _his_ and someone that truly needs _him_.

It’s bizarre and terrifying, and he can’t help the tender smile that crosses his face as he thumbs the glossy surface of his stomach.

A sudden knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts, mind rapidly panicking at his state of nakedness, shoving his shorts up to his legs and his sweater over his skull so quickly he’s sure it’s backward. Hastily, he inches the door open, meeting eye-to-eye with none other than Ink, his indefinable expression brightening further upon seeing him, and Cross has half-mind set on shutting the door on him already.

“Heya, Crossy! Long time no see.” His exasperating smile can sometimes be called cute, but this is not one of those times. The painter has one of those mischievous little looks he gives when he’s up to something, one of his _many_ tells, and the irritation welling on Cross’s chest tells him he’s ready to be done with Ink.

Another part of him is glad to see him again.

“Hey”, Cross offers him a small smile, shuffling his slippers on and closing the door behind him, “You done annoying the shit out of Error?”

Ink laughs and winks conspiratorially at him, practically gluing himself to the soldier’s side in a half-hug, a sneaky hand making its way to grip his hip.

“Never, he’s too easy to tease! Kind of like you.”

“Hurr Durr.”

“I’m serious,” still he laughs again, leading Cross away from the bathroom and down the hall- making a turn towards one of the main hallways leading to the throne room and the dining room, “even though you’re becoming sassier! Good on you, you used to be so quiet, it’s nice.”

His pace is relentless, Cross finds himself unable to focus much on either the direction they’re going through _or_ the conversation. It’s just the way Ink is, he can never tell what’s going up in his head (that used to intrigue him, nowadays he’s grown more concerned for it), he’s hasty with his decision making and it makes him unpredictable.

It’s unfair how a simple walk makes him feel uneasy.

“Jerk.” But Cross can’t be mad at him, not when Ink has dumbass energy that makes him want to protect him, to be around him and listen to any brain rot he might say. The soldier is also easily touched by the effort the artist shows to demonstrate he cares, like paying a visit to the castle despite knowing how likely that’ll get him accidentally mauled.

“Yeah, but you love me.” Ink nudges him a little and it’s his turn to laugh, “And it’s true! Maybe the guy is gonna be a lil’ spitfire like you.”

Before he knows it, they’re in front of the duo doors of the dining room, and Ink steps away from him to open (laboriously) one of them and gesturing Cross to go inside. He does, sticking out his tongue indulgingly at him, before faltering dry on his tracks.

Everyone is seated at the large table, and he means _everyone_ ; one side having the residents of the castle and the other hosting Blue, Dream, and surprisingly, Error as well. Whatever conversation they had ceases all at once, multiple lights falling solely on Cross, some welcoming and reassuring, and others firm and hungry.

Too late he realizes it’s a trap, and by then he can hear Ink shut the door with a decisive thud.

That doesn’t stop him from snapping his head back to throw the artist a look of betrayal, mouthing a silent yet angry _‘Fuck you’_ that is countered with a very unapologetic smile and a nod of his skull, directing him to one of the empty seats. He’d rather stay on his feet by the door in case he felt like fleeing, but something tells him this is going to take a while.

“Ah, Cross, Ink. Thank you for coming so quickly.” Dream’s voice becomes his only comfort as he takes a seat directly across from Nightmare, a position he’d never had found himself in since, well, this was usually the positive brother’s seat. Idly, Cross notices Ink taking the chair by Blue’s side, the swap being the only barrier between him and Error, and nodding enthusiastically at Dream.

Stars, he could identify with Error’s resting bitch face that _screams_ he’d rather be _anywhere_ else.

“Did, uh, did something happen?” He risks asking, searching in Killer’s face first for answers. He sports a laid-back smile, the standard bastard smirk, so Cross doesn’t rely on it.

“ **Nothing denoting unprecedented catastrophe, don’t worry.** ” Nightmare replies, calm and patient, “ **We simply gathered today because we are concerned about you, Cross.** ”

“Concerned about…?” It’s a stupid question, he knows it, and the others know it too. He still wants to give them the benefit of a doubt.

“ **Of the circumstances that led to your pregnancy, I’m sure you know.** ”

Ah.

…Cross glances behind him to look at the doors longingly. Maybe if he yanks on the tablecloth hard enough to throw the cups of water to the laps of their owners, he could have enough momentum to sprint to the safety of his room.

As if reading his mind, Dream speaks up, even as Cross refuses to meet his stare and temporarily locks on a very fascinating swirl of the table, “We understand that you don’t want to talk about it, truly, we do. But we want you to get the closure you need.”

He can’t help the way he crosses his arms, protectively embracing his belly, “Are you sure it’s not you that needs closure? I thought we were over this.”

He’s met with a communal pause in the room that everyone takes advantage of by pulling out…flashcards? Yes, they pulling varying amounts of flashcards and setting them on the table, and the humor that Cross could’ve tried to save went down the drain.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mhm, listen Crossy.”, Killer is the first to talk, seeming to take a look at his cards before discarding them to the side, regarding the soldier with the vibe of a step-dad trying to seem approachable, “You always get this face whenever we bring it up like you’re keeping a horrible secret.”

“you break into a sweat and look on the verge of running.” Dust completes for him, and Cros starts to find it harder to keep his stare.

“Maybe those are signs you should leave it alone”. He bites back, defensive, but if the comment irked them, they didn’t show it.

“I Noticed How You Get So Excited At Seeing Things For The Baby”, Blue surprises him by speaking up, “You Smile So Big And Then It’s Gone. I Hate Seeing Something You’re Looking Forward To Being Ruined For You.”

“I-“

“ _can i say the story of the “tall, clothing-wearing skeleton” was the dumbest shit i’ve heard?_ ” Error’s continuously glitching voice cuts through the excuse on Cross’s tongue, earning himself a glare, “ _i’ve heard better lies from blue’s brother high off his ass trying to get into someone’s pants. no offense._ ”

“None Taken.” Blue laments.

“The point we’re trying to make,” Dream pointedly interrupts, clearing his voice to call awareness back to the subject, “is that we can tell you’re not happy Cross, not completely. And I know you won’t be able to make your child happy if you’re not.”

The guardian is looking at him with compassion, patience, and a lack of judgment that makes his breath hitch, caught and trapped by his puppy love. Distantly, he notices a pinching feeling on his femur, phalanges digging hard into the leg of his shorts, sockets feeling warm, beleaguered. Everyone is gathered here for him, they’re worried, because they care, and he’s done nothing but tell lies and make them worry.

Was this something he owed them, or something he owed himself for his peace of mind? He’d been keeping the secret so close to him that letting go now feels like he’s abandoning a cause, even if it was hopeless. If he tells them now, will the relief be waiting for him in a few minutes? Or will he have to leave to search for it?

Maybe it’s the magic fluctuations caused by the pregnancy that make his sockets spill tears, or perhaps it’s the embarrassment of finding out he’d been fearful of a judgment that would probably never come.

“ **Who hurt you, Cross?** ”

The question makes him laugh- a sound he doesn’t bother muffling, finally tearing his eye off Dream’s to wipe away his tears. Next, he realizes it’s possibly not the reaction they were expecting of him and hides the warm smirk on the collar of his sweater.

“Hah, shit, sorry.” He giggles, the hand that had been torturing his leg to support his cheek, now properly looking forward, straight at Nightmare. “I did it.”

Who appears to be unable to comprehend what Cross was saying.

“ **Pardon? What exactly did you do?** ”

Similar affirmations of confusion from the others present echo back, equally as bewildered and dreadfully curious. Cross feels the affection swirling in his soul like a warm blanket, and he uses it as a guiding light through his anxiety. Besides him, Dream beams at him, catching on to his emotions reflexively.

“I did it, I uh, I got myself pregnant.”

“…sugar, if it’s too hard to talk about…take your time, but you don’t gotta lie to us.” Horror says in a guarded manner, a way he’s talked to Dust on a bad day. It’s also the tone he uses when he’s being tricky trying to figure out who ate the cheese snacks. Cross finds it realizing how much that makes him smile, he ought to stop before they start to think he lost it.

“ **He’s not lying.** ” Nightmare utters with muted shock, mouth set in a thin line and eyelight wide open, “ **Either that, or he’s convinced himself that’s the truth.** ”

“Brother, he’s telling the truth and nothing but that.” Dream defends him, still smiling, “Cross, please explain what you mean.”

Here goes nothing.

“I’ve- I was thinking, of forming a family for a while.” He starts, and despite knowing exactly what happened, he’s having a hard time putting it to words, “For years. Raising a part of me with the happiness and opportunities I never had, felt like that was the missing piece.”

Thankfully nobody butts in while he explains, allowing him to start ranting, spilling the happenings like they happened the day before.

“Believe me, I thought about asking one of you, maybe a surrogate parent, it would’ve been much easier,” he huffs, “Maybe even adopt, there are so many kids looking for a chance, that would’ve been a good idea. But I underestimated how wound up my intent and magic was, and on my next heat, well, my body had enough excess to pour emitter and receptive intent to create.”

Someone makes a noise of doubt, and Cross instinctively clenches his sockets shut before forcing them open, forcing himself to face this.

“It’s fine if you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. I talked to Sci and he ran some tests, the kid is 100% mine and made by me.”

“If this is true…then why didn’t you say anything? You’ve been carrying this weight on you for a long time, why torture yourself like this?” Dream questions, voice now lowered to a whisper, sockets narrowed with an emotion akin to pity and compassion, but he’s still smiling, encouragingly.

Cross bites his tongue, fighting another wave of tears, all the compressed emotions he’s been keeping locked down for months slowly bubbling up with vengeance, “It’s just…it’s so stupid, that I was, _that I still am_ , desperate enough for a real family that I did this to myself. Not saying we aren’t already one, but I’m not _supposed_ to be like this, I should be focused on protecting you and I’m not-“

He chokes, pressing his palm against his forehead, and everything spills out, word vomit that’s too late to stop, “I don’t deserve it, and don’t deserve a second chance. There’s so much I still have to fix, so many people I hurt that deserve an apology, a family I should reconnect with. There are lives the will never be the same and people that will have to live with the _consequences of my actions!_ ” He laughs again, tapping hard on his brow, grounding himself.

“I thought if you guys believed it was a mistake, a one-night stand, you wouldn’t feel obligated to stay. It was stupid, I’m sorry.”

Dream is up from his seat in an instant, rounding the corner of the table and practically clinging to his side, and Cross immediately clutches back, pressing their heads together in a way that demands his full consideration.

“You’re not stupid for being a _person_ , Cross.” The guardian states firmly, authority and kindness dripping from his voice like honey, “You _deserve_ to be happy, just like everyone else does, and you’re not less of a capable monster for wanting. You don’t _need_ to worry about earning a second chance because you already _have_ it, you have us, and you have our little one to prove it.”

“Thanks To You, The Truce Was Possible.” Blue’s voice startles him, becoming conscious of how he took his opposite side, hugging his arm with comical tears gathering in his sockets. “Without You, We Wouldn’t Have Realized In How Much Peril The Multiverse Was Without Balance!”

“And most importantly, you were an important part when I was building my relationship with Night back up, you were there for both of us indiscriminately.”

The words affect him more than he realizes, his very being so hungry for forgiveness and validation that he doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to pull Dream into a kiss, the gentle clack of their teeth being reciprocated with the same enthusiasm as the guardian brushes his tears away. Then, he repeats the process with Blue, giving him an extra peck on the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it with his soul, feeling a million times lighter with just these two’s approval.

“No way!” Ink practically screams abruptly, scaring the shit out of everyone as he stands up and hooking a knee over the table as if preparing to climb and hurl himself across it, if it weren’t for Error’s responsible grip on his ankle, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?!”

The suddenness of it sobers Cross up, pulling away from both monsters to clean his face properly with his sleeve, indulging the artist’s theatrics, “If you’re thinking I took “go fuck yourself” literally, then yeah.”

He risks a look at the rest, cringing for the reactions his overworked mind had forced him to imagine for so long. Instead, he’s met with the faces of wonder and maybe even fear (which makes him stifle another laugh, leave it up to Error to be disturbed at the situation.) but most importantly, they lack what he feared the most; disgust.

“so you’re saying body reproduced asexually. it’s not what i expected but,” Dust takes the lead, apparently processing the facts faster than the others, “it’s not unheard of. moldsmals are monsters that create their young that way.”

Cross isn’t sure if he should feel relieved or offended by the comparison.

“And!” Ink, still shouting, is now frenetically looking over the scribbles on his scarf, “And! There’s an AU with a Gaster that did something similar, using parts of his hands to create that universe’s Sans and Papyrus! Sure, your way is way more direct and less painful, but it is possible!”

“I’m surprised, for once, “ Killer sings, startled grin morphing into a smirk that has Cross already making plans to slap him, “If ya wanted a kid that badly, we coulda arranged that real quick-“

“Shut it, Killer.” Cross rolls his lights, shaking his skull, fighting a smile.

“at least it isn’t as bad as we thought,” Dust is visibly less tense, even grinning a little, “we thought you were assaulted or something.”

This surprises the soldier as much as it touches him, the fact that they weren’t here just to satiate their nosiness and were genuinely concerned for him. Cross can understand it coming from Dream, Blue, and Ink (although his reasons are probably on the morbidly curious side), and definitely from Horror and Killer. But Nightmare and Dust are the types to wait for the answers they can’t find to come to them, it’s a nice change seeing them being so proactive.

Speaking of whom, the boss meets his gaze with a softer, wondrous look, before and he stands up, drawing the attention back to him.

“ **It’s nice to know what’s been troubling you so at last, Cross.** ” he starts, following his brother’s steps and approaching him with a strange, uncharacteristic eagerness, “ **I only wish you had been comfortable enough to tell us sooner, but one can’t rush things such as a change of behavior.** ”

Dream and Blue step aside to let Nightmare through, who offers him a hand that he takes, hustling him up and leading him towards the opposite door he came in from. His other _family_ members began to pick themselves up, following close behind, the mood lifted and tensions dissolving.

“ **Let it be completely clear, for as long as you wish to, you are to stay here under our care. Your child is our responsibility, one we’re all willing to accept and raise, you’re not alone anymore and I won’t accept you thinking otherwise.** ”

“No matter how hard you wish you were.”, Killer adds helpfully, only to be captured under Horror’s arm and dragged off out of his sight.

“Thank you.” It’s like he can’t say it enough, the overwhelming support making his soul do flips of unbridled joy, unrestrained and _in love_.

Nightmare’s hand tightens around his, and eventually, the living room comes to view, ready for another movie night. Already, everyone picks places, arranging themselves in a pile of limbs.

“ **Of course. Now, make sure to eat something,** ” Nightmare guides him right to the center of bones, and right away, he feels himself be swallowed into the cushions, “ **you’re doing it for two, after all.** ”

* * *

It’s still dark out when Cross blinks awake.

No nightmares plagued his sleep tonight to rouse him up, but rather Ink’s snoring directly beside his skull, so he reaches behind him to adjust his pillow and cease the noise. It’s very effective, mentioned skeleton curling up tighter around his arm and settling back down.

There are more hands than he can count on his stomach, protective, connected, and united, feeling the hum of his soul behind the ecto as one, in peace and comfort.

Here, for a moment, surrounded by his partners and warmth, everything is exactly the way is supposed to be.

Cross goes back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The end is a bit rushed and I'm not the best at writing Cross having a good time, but it was still fun!


End file.
